Hell on two feet and the Waiter
by ElStark
Summary: Based on: "you come to the restaurant I work at and choose me as your waiter every time just to annoy me and I can't do anything in retribution or I'll get fired" AU with sterek thank you!" plus Jock!Stiles and Derek's the same age as Stiles and Co.


_Oh, hell no._

Derek cursed under his breath as the familiar sweet-spiked scent assaulted his enchanted smell sense.

Karen patted his back and hugged his shoulders with an arm, "Hey, your personal smoking hot hell has just arrived." she winked cackling her way to the kitchens.

Derek closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

First thing he'd do as soon as he'd go home, was to unfriend her on Facebook.

He turned, and had a sudden urge to tumble down on the floor as soon as his eyes found the familiar chestnut hair poking from the booth just a couple of feet from the entrance door.

He hated that hair, didn't he have a goddamn brush?! Why did he have them like that all the time?

Well, Derek knew, after all he sat behind those very hair every single day. And they were constantly pulled by those stupid skinny, veiny hands that Derek did _not_ have wet dreams about. _Not_.

Six years and Stiles Stilinski had been the bane of his existence since the first day Derek saw him sticking a spoon on his nose and doing weird faces with his best friend Scott McCall, while Alison (Scott's Soulmate) Argent, Lydia (Queen Bee) Martin and Jackson (Asshole) Whittemore rolled their eyes.

He may or not have quietly lusted over the living contradiction that was the brainy, nerdy jock that was Stiles Stiliski, for the first three years he'd known him.  
It all changed on the first year of High school when Mr. Harris put them in pairs for the new Chemistry assignment. Stiles and Derek. Together.  
He had thought that the Angels were finally singing upon him, but oh boy, _had he been wrong._

Since then Derek hated Stiles and Stiles seemed to do everything in his power to make Derek's life a living hell.

He took another steadying breath and squared himself up.

 _Let's fuckin' do this._

"What can I bring you guys, today?" He asks plastering the fake bright smile on his face.

"Oh, Hey Derek." Scott saluted him with his puppy smile, while having a firm arm around Alison's shoulders.

Derek likes Scott. He isn't sure if anyone is even capable of not liking him. Scott is the co-captain of the Lacrosse Team and isn't particularly bright at school, so by definition a Jock, but he was also one of the nicest people Derek had ever met, so when Derek turns his smile to him and Allison, it's a genuine one.

Jackson and Lydia are another matter. Jackson is a plain asshole and Lydia is.. Well, scary. That's the only way Derek can describe her. And he had no idea how in the world this group had even formed. They were _just_ so different from each other.

But right now he's not thinking of them. How could he when Stiles is boring his sunrays-going-through-a-glass-of-whiskey eyes on his while ordering pretty much all the food listed on the menu.

"Dude! Stop!" Scott hisses.

"Stiles, we can't possibly eat that much!" Allison tries to reason.

Stiles stops abruptly, and then smiles up to him. Derek raises his eyebrows. He absolutely did not feel a flutter in his stomach.

"Yeah, that's about it. Thanks Der."

Derek grits his teeth and gives them a tight smile before quickly going to the kitchens to give the orders.

How dare he, calling him _that,_ and make Derek's knees go weak.

Karen brushes his arm with her elbow, while he's taking the drinks from the refrigerator, turns to look at Stiles (making Derek look too) that is very much staring at Derek with his stupid smirk, turns again and winks.

"I hate you so much" he hisses.

"Twenty bucks." She just says glancing significantly at the glasses on Derek's tray.

Derek's shakes his head, "I'm not betting with you."

She shrugs and goes back to the counter.

Derek brings the group the drinks they ordered stubbornly making eye contact _only_ with _everyone_ on the table _but_ Stiles and leaves.

He looks around to see if any new diners needed his attention and promptly hears the unmistakable sound of glass crashing on the floor.

He doesn't need to turn around to know who the clumsy idiot is.  
Jaw tightened, Derek goes to take the dustpan and returns to the table of doom.

"I'm so sorry dude" Scott's apologises even though Derek knows it's not his fault.

He catches the movement of something moving under the table and then Stiles flinches.

Derek would snort but his muscles are bind too tight and he really just wants to get the hell away from here.

"Yeah, sorry.." Stiles then says and Derek makes the unforgivable mistake of glancing his way and sees the stupid smug smile on Stiles stupid face.

Nostrils flaring he crouches down on the floor to take care of the mess.

Every week was the same old story. Stiles and his group would come at the restaurant every Saturday and specifically require that Derek waited on them.

Karen was the daughter of the owner and even if Stiles' presence did take a toll to the restaurant budget, however insignificant, with his constant breaking plates, glasses, saucers you name it, he also happened to be the Sheriff's son, and Micheal Sinclair was rumoured to owe a great deal to the Sheriff, so kept a permanent closed eye, no matter _what_ Stiles broke.  
And besides, as Karen never failed to tell him, Karen _adored_ seeing Derek's pathetic ways to hide his adorable hate-crush on the walking tornado that was Stiles Stilinski.

So even if he did try to complain and risk to get fired it would serve to nothing.  
And so that meant that he was stuck in this personalised pit of hell.

Once he was done, Stiles never once taking his eyes off of Derek, he steeled himself and raising an eyebrow towards the bane of his existence said, "Try not to break something else.. Please" almost spraining his jaw in adding the 'please'.

Stiles grinned, eyes sparkling with that particular sparkle that made Derek know for certain that this was _not_ the end.  
He sighed internally and made his way to the kitchens backdoor.

***

Finally Derek's work day had come to an end. Stiles and his crew had been gone for a while now. Thankfully.  
Stiles did break another plate and the salt holder, both of course when Derek was around, but after a while the others finally managed to drag him out from his special-favourite extracurricular activity that was to make Derek Hale's life a living hell. It was almost incredible on how he found new ways to torment him.  
Derek bets Stiles gets off on that. No, no, _no._ Do not think of Stiles getting off. Of his mouth forming a silent 'O' while his body is all slick and malleable- Oh _god_.

Derek takes a moment to take a couple of steading breaths leaning on the locker in the staff's changing room. The annoying thing was that Karen told him that Stiles came one day while Derek wasn't on his shift and managed to not break anything. She thinks that it means something. Derek told her that it simply means that Stiles obviously enjoys making Derek's life hell. Nothing that he didn't already knew.

Finally he put on his leather jacket and sighed. At least now he got to go home and have a quiet night relaxing while watching his favourite show.

When he got out the restaurant after saying bye to Karen, he stumbled on his feet as the sweet-spiked scent reached his nose again.  
He frantically looked around, and then he saw him.

Stiles pushed himself off the brick wall of the restaurant and smiled. Derek froze in place.

"Hi," Stiles said.

Derek stared.

Not receiving any reply he took a step closer and continued talking a little rushed, "Everyone thinks that I hate you, but that's really not the case.. Uhm.. Even if it's difficult to believe beca-"

"I'm not letting you copy my notes."

"What?"

Derek crossed his arms over his chest, "I said, I'm not letting you cop-"

"I don't won't you notes!" Stiles spluttered offended, "As I needed them, I have a higher GPA than yours if you didn't notice, but that's not what I'm here for!"

"Then, what _are_ you here for?"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you- God" Stiles face-palmed and then sighed, "Okay, let's start over."

Derek patiently waited as Stiles took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes again. He was rather enjoying this to tell the complete truth. It wasn't always –more like never –that you got to see Stiles (Overconfident) Stilinski looking so… _Nervous_. Wow, a day to put in the history books, indeed.

"I want to date you."

Although the history books Derek was thinking about were _well_ , his diary. Derek had a Diary, so what? And what if most pages were filled with rants about Stiles, it wasn't that stra- Wait. _What_?

"Huh?"

Stiles groaned, and Derek did not get turned on by the sound. _Not_. "Oh my god, here."

And then Derek felt a hand pushing on his neck and suddenly his lips were touching Stiles'. He froze. He already was, but now he stopped breathing as well. He double froze. _Oh god_. The moment was so surreal that he didn't dare to move a single muscle, in case it was all some sort of prank or even a dream.  
Stiles must notice –of course he notices, he's attached to his lips for god's sake –because then he opens his eyes –which Derek notices, because his eyes are still wide as saucers –and slowly starts to lean back until the kiss is broken.

"Oh, I-" Stiles was flushed red. Quiet the vision, but Derek couldn't concentrate on admiring the pretty shade on Stiles skin quiet _yet_.  
Stiles Stilinski the source of his deepest misery since the day he accidentally caught him getting himself off, opening his bedroom door without knocking, the day of their first and last pair work ever, had just _kissed_ him –on the lips! – And he was just standing there staring like a fish. "I'm sorry, I thought-" Stiles flinches as he thinks of something. Something absolutely and one hundred per cent wrong, because sure as hell he was thinking that Derek didn't like him because he _didn't_ kiss him back! _Oh, hell no._

"Wait, you hate me." Derek says, because of course he's his greatest enemy when it comes to his own happiness. Of course he needs to make everything harder. Put everything under the microscope.

Stiles sighs, "I don't hate you, I know it's hard to believe it, but I really don't, the contrary actually… That day when you caught me.. " Stiles cleared his throat and scratched his head, not looking Derek in the eyes, "I was actually thinking of you… I always found you really hot and stuff, you know?"

Derek frowns. No he doesn't. But he does like the turn the conversation has taken, "So, you like me." he guesses.

"I like you." Stiles agrees, "I like you very much. All those times when I broke things it was just so that I could see you. So that all your attention had to be focused on me –Oh god that sounds so wrong." Stiles groans again, and seriously he needed to stop doing that sound or Derek would stop accounting for his own actions. "I mean –Oh sweet lord, just tell me if you like me back, do I have any chance?"

Derek didn't reply he closed the distance by kissing him. This time thoroughly. Open mouthed with tongue, teeth, and eliciting some delicious moans that did wonders to Derek's confidence.

When they finally broke apart, Stiles was breathless, his pupils were blown, and Derek could definitely smell arousal. Derek did that to him. "I take that's a yes?"

Derek pulled him in another kiss.

So, in the end Derek did not spend the quiet night at home watching 'The 100' like he was planning to. Instead he spent it by making out with Stiles on the couch until Laura yelled 'Gross' and chased them to Derek's room. Let's repeat. He made out with Stiles Stilinski.

His boyfriend.

Was it _all_ worth it?

 _Oh, hell yes._


End file.
